Page 18 of Fixing the Grumpy Pumpkin King
“Jesus Christ Rowan!”
Jack straightened slightly in his throne. The bitterness in his voice was interesting. Not anger, exactly. Hurt.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Jack said.
Locke whipped around. “Jack, don’t.”
“I’m not jealous,” Rowan snapped. “I just really need to talk to my BFF right now and I haven’t had the chance to do that cause you keep hogging all his time. If you two are dating, I already said I think that’s cool. Especially after what happened in Portland.”
Jack leaned forward, genuinely intrigued. “What happened in Portland?”
“Nothing!” Locke’s voice pitched higher.
He shot Rowan a look; desperate, pleading.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “You know how I can be when I’m in a bad mood. I’ll head out and if it bothers you so much then please clean the hell up cause I really gotta talk about… Xander.” He made a disgusted noise after the name.
Locke’s face twisted. “Ew! Don’t tell me…”
“Shut it! And now you see why I need to talk. I think I’m losing my damn mind.”
They laughed, the tension breaking. Jack watched them. This was what Locke had without him. History, inside jokes, the easy familiarity of people who’d known each other for years.
Jealousy, he realized with distaste. He was jealous of their history, their inside jokes, their ease with each other.
“Xander…” Jack said slowly. “That’s the dumb one whose part I stole?”
Rowan sighed. “One and the same.”
Jack’s carved expression shifted into something decidedly wicked. “Maybe you should invite him up.”
Locke ignored him, turning to Rowan. “How about I take you out for pizza after rehearsal tonight and we can talk. My treat.”
Rowan’s whole face brightened. He moved forward and hugged Locke tight, squeezing him like he’d been waiting all week for this. “I knew you were still my bestie! See you tonight.”
He started toward the door, then stopped. Lingered. His gaze swept the shop, landing on corners where nothing was visible, tracking movement that shouldn’t be there.
“You know what’s weird?”
“What?” Locke’s voice was carefully casual.
“I keep seeing these... I don’t know. Shimmer things. Like floaties in my eyes, but they’re moving around the shop.”
Bramble perched on the bookshelf, Russet hovering near the crystals, Pip doing loops near Rowan’s head. His heart kicked into overdrive. Did he see them?
“Probably just dust in the light,” he said.
Rowan hummed, still looking around. “Yeah. Probably.” A pause. “Or your place is haunted now.”
“It’s not haunted.”
“Oh, but it is I who haunts this place,” Jack intoned dramatically from his throne.
Rowan blinked. “I can actually believe that.”
“He’s joking,” Locke said quickly.
“I am not.”
